


When the Leaves Spin From October

by blasted_heath



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Dogs, Domestic Fluff, M/M, general silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 07:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17997773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blasted_heath/pseuds/blasted_heath
Summary: James and Francis have acquired two dogs, and pet ownership gets James into mischief.This could very well be in the future of where I currently am in the "As Far's the Pole and Line" universe, but it's sort of from James's point of view so stands separately. (I hope it's not weird to jump ahead in the timeline, but I already established in Chapter 1 that Francis ends up moving to the country and James stays with him whenever he's not on active duty, so... *shrug*. Y'all knew this was coming.)





	When the Leaves Spin From October

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks [franklins-leg](https://franklins-leg.tumblr.com/) as always for being my editor and making sure I don't get _too_ wordy!

A quiet autumn afternoon, with a breeze carrying the smell of fallen leaves and last night’s rain. A fire in the hearth, but James was sprawled across the window seat in the front parlor, the tall windows flung open to admit the cool air. He had been thinking of nothing at all, reveling in the pleasure of hearing birds that sang instead of shrieked, and the feeling of air on his face that did not smell of salt. 

He was, in fact, quite nearly adrift, lost on the sound of a thrush singing in the hedgerow across the way, when he was startled back into consciousness by a loud creaking squawk that erupted below the window. Jolted by the shock, his foot kicked hard against the wall, and he hissed a curse as he rearranged his arms and legs into a reasonably-seated posture. He bent to inspect the damage to the wallpaper, frowning, before turning to look at Francis, whom he had definitely heard snorting with laughter at his misfortune.

Francis was seated at the table across the room, staring down at something he was writing, and gave no outward sign of having observed anything at all. Other than, of course, the fact that he was biting his lip, which James knew he never did in concentration, but only when he was trying not to laugh. 

“What?” James asked, tersely. “You were going to have to replace the paper anyway.”

Francis snorted again, but did not look up. “James, have you somehow managed to never hear a pheasant? Perhaps you’ve missed it while you’ve been away, but they _are_ quite the thing in the north this time of year.”

“Of course I’ve heard a pheasant, you—“ He looked warily out the window as a bundle of brown feathers disappeared into the hedgerow, ousting the erstwhile singing inhabitant. “Just never had one decide that my ear was the appropriate target of its close-range volleys.” He rolled his ankle in a circle and frowned again.

The sound of the disgruntled game bird, however, was evidently an entirely new concept to Beatrice, the spaniel puppy who now bounded into the parlor with a skittering of paws. Ears on high alert and head cocked to the side, she paused to look skeptically at her brother, who was lounging in a most content manner in front of the fire—and with an enthusiastic swish of her tail continued her beeline toward James, and the open window behind him. 

With the vague realization that this was perhaps already the most graceless afternoon of his life, James threw himself across the bench again as a barrier, as Beatrice landed squarely on his hip, then pushed up to climb over his shoulder. “Oh no you don’t, girl,” he exclaimed, hands quickly coming up to catch her and pull her down more securely against his chest. “You’re not a bird dog yet. Don’t think _that_ one would allow it, anyway.”

He glanced at Francis again as he stood up, grinning, but Francis’s eyes had only just flicked downward as if he still had not seen anything amiss. “You know you _could_ come over here and help,” he observed, as the dog squirmed and whined against him, clearly with no heed of what anyone said she was or wasn’t. 

James sighed and gathered Beatrice in one arm, and reached forward to pull the window closed. But having failed to account for the wiliness of a creature that possessed more energy than even he had himself, he found himself kicked in the side with surprising strength for two short legs, and Beatrice was off and bounding for the hedge.

With an exasperated look over his shoulder at Francis, who had leaned his forehead into his hand and was staring _very intently_ and with wide eyes at the paper before him, he sighed, and did the first thing that came to mind—which was to push the window back open, step up onto the bench and the frame, and leap into the garden after her.

\---

Having returned (through the front door this time), deposited Beatrice safely in a separate room, and finally closed the windows, James lay a hand on the table and leaned forward. 

“Do you find me amusing, Francis?” 

“Eminently,” he said brightly as his pen flashed across his work. “I hardly know why you ask now, though.”

James tilted his head in an attempt to make sense of what it was that Francis pretended to be so occupied with, upside-down as it was, and spread his arms across the table so one hand rested at each corner. “Are you telling me you were not in the least moved by the sight of myself, jumping through your window and scrambling into a hedge?” 

“I can’t say that I would not find the sight endearing. Had I in fact seen such a thing, that is.” 

James leaned further forward, and with a swift gesture snatched the pen out of Francis’s hand, and held it out to the side, out of reach. 

“Then what was that absurd yelping laugh as I made my exit?”

Francis’s face was remarkably composed as he held James’s gaze in complete innocence, although he seemed to be forgetting to blink in his attempt to keep it that way. “Have you considered that I may not be the one _yelping_ around here?” He canted his head in the direction of the fireplace. 

But based on the second dog’s affronted expression, James was certain that Benedick, who was much more a creature after Francis’s own heart, had never _yelped_ in his life except when goaded by his sister. 

“I do believe your dog just raised his eyebrows at me,” James said in disbelief. “How in the hell did you teach him to—?”

“Of course he did.” Francis’s eyes darted across James’s face, gleaming. “You’ve got leaves in your hair, James.”

Without the slightest air of shock, James ran a hand through his hair to verify the claim. “Of course I do. Happens when one is forced to enter a hedge, I may remind you.” But he grimaced as his fingers caught on a particularly sharp holly leaf that had entangled itself behind his ear. 

“Oh, James,” Francis mused in an incredulous whisper, and finally lost all the composure he had thus maintained. 

Squinting through his laughter, he reached up and removed the thing from James’s hair himself, laughing even more ardently as he dropped it on the table and combed the strands it had pulled back into place.

“Aren’t you glad you’ve come home, James?” 

“Eminently.” 

James’s lips were still set in a tight line, but something twitched at the corners, and spread into a full grin as he leaned forward again, settling their foreheads together, Francis’s hand still in his hair.


End file.
